


Not Ever

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Fraxus [42]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love, M/M, Promises, Rescue Missions, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 15:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19832980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: “Not ever,” Laxus corrected, voice fierce, and Freed couldn’t help but laugh, although it was a broken watery noise that he buried in Laxus’ shoulder as quickly as he could. Closing his eyes against the urge to cry, focusing on the fact that it was over, the warmth of Laxus hand against his, and the solid bulwark of his body against his, before nodding and echoing softly.“Not ever.”





	Not Ever

Freed tested the chains holding him in place again, but there was still no give in them, even with his thrashing and attempts to loosen them. It didn’t stop him from yanking on them again, even as his wrists protested, the cuts from his previous efforts catching on the metal. He needed to get out of here. His strength was waning, and it was getting harder and harder to remain defiant, and he knew that if this continued for much longer then something was going to break, and he was worried that it was going to be him. That wasn’t the only thing driving him though, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the ring hanging from the chain around his neck. It was enchanted to be invisible to anyone but him and Laxus, which was why his captors hadn’t found it yet, and its weight grounded him, reminding him of why he needed to survive this and get out of here.

Laxus was waiting.

He had no idea how long he had been here, the days merging into one another in a blur of pain and growing despair, but he knew that Laxus would still be searching for him. That he wouldn’t have given up. But that it would also be pushing him to the edge, threatening the promise he had made to all of them that he would keep them safe, and Freed knew that would make him dangerous. It would also make him reckless, and Freed didn’t want to be the reason the Dragon-slayer rushed headlong into this hell. And he didn’t want to see the same expression of guilt and doubt that had clouded his partner’s face for so long after Tartaros. Which meant that he couldn’t just wait here to be rescued.

He wished that he could reach up and grasp the ring and draw strength from it that way. Wanting to remember how it had felt the first time that Laxus had laid it in his hands. They had been waiting, wanting Makarov to return from the conference he was attending before spilling the beans to the rest of the guild, but that moment, with just the two of them was engraved on his memory. Laxus’ falling over his words, and waiting, more nervous than Freed could ever remember him being for the Rune Mage to give his answer. As though there had ever been any doubt as to how he was going to reply, and Freed’s eyes burned now as he remembered the joy in the blue eyes, the hug that had nearly crushed him the moment the answer had slipped past his lips.

With that memory at the forefront of his mind, and his whole being focused on escaping and Laxus, his eyes flew open, his magic stirring weakly. The chains glowed, trying to hold him down and suppress his magic, but the light was fainter than it had been. The only change that he had noticed, and it gave him hope now, as he poured more and more magic into his efforts. He knew that he should be conserving it. That he would need it to fight his way out of here, but that wasn’t going to be an option at all if he didn’t break the chains in the first place. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His body struggling to keep up with the demands he was placing on it, and his vision was wavering, the strength beginning to drain out of him, but still, he pushed, even when all he could see was the glow, the world fading down to that light.

_Please…_

_Just let me break these chains…_

He had never believed in a higher power, how could he when he had been cursed with power he had? He had long since come to terms with that side of his magic, but he would never forget what he had endured getting to this point or the price that had been paid. Yet, at that moment, he wondered if there was something more because just as his eyes were beginning to drift shut against his will, he felt something break. Or maybe he heard it. A barely audible pop in the air around his head.

Then his magic was there.

It flowed freely through his body, lashing and crackling against his skin. The chains didn’t stand a chance, and he felt them shatter just as he found himself falling forward. He hit the ground hard, barely able to catch himself on hands and knees, the world narrowing down to the roaring sound that was flooding his ears. He was free, but what could he do with it? Even the thought of moving felt like too much at that moment, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his head swam. Like this he could feel every ache and pain in his body, the cuts that littered his body from their ‘sessions’ with him, where their blades had lain waste to his body, never deep enough to kill him, but just deep enough to hurt like hell and leave him teetering on the edge. He had endured it all, abandoning his efforts to hold in his voice, just to make sure that he survived.

And he had, but for what? To be here on his hands and knees, unable to move, feeling as though he was going to throw up or collapse in a heap if he tried? His fingers curled against the floor as he focused on breathing, trying to settle his churning stomach, and pull his magic back inside himself. It was still shifting across his skin, savouring its freedom after being confined for so long, and it fought him now, itching to remain free.

Itching to fight.

Noise. Clattering footsteps beyond the room startled him out of his thoughts, and he slowly lifted his head, relieved to find that while his vision was still blurry, he could at least make out enough to differentiate between things now. They were coming. He knew that sound off by heart by now, and it was usually followed by pain. By the blades that tore him apart. The torture that seemed to be for no other reason than to cause pain, as there had been no explanation for why he had been targeted, no questions and no demands. It had made it harder to endure. And he knew that if he was captured again, then that might be it. He didn’t know if he would have the strength to take that punishment any longer, not if he had failed to escape. But could he fight? He had his magic, but it was wild and reluctant to listen, and his body was trembling, struggling to obey as he pushed himself upright on unsteady legs.

He couldn’t fight like this, he realised a moment later as he listed violently to the side, barely managing to stop himself from crumbling to the ground. His gaze locked on the door as he heard keys jangling now. _I can’t fight, but…_ He glanced at the darkness that was spiralling around his arms, the magic still straining against his control. He couldn’t fight, not alone, but did he want to risk it? The last time he had allowed his magic to take over, he had nearly taken out his own teammates in the chaos. But they weren’t here. Laxus wasn’t here. He didn’t need to protect them. Still, he hesitated. But the keys were in the lock now and remembered pain and fear clawed at him, and as the door began to creak open, he made his choice, closing his eyes, and releasing all control he had over his magic.

The pain receded, banished to a distant part of his mind. As was he. He remained aware, which was more than he could say for last time, but he was no longer in control. Unable to do anything but watch as darkness wrapped itself around him, skin giving way to scales, just as the door burst open. There was a pause, in which he stared at his primary tormentor who had frozen as he realised that their prisoner was loose, and then his body was moving, lunging forward with unhuman speed and grace, unfazed by the torture he had endured. He felt a fleeting, human sense of compassion as the man screamed beneath him, no more able to resist the onslaught of the demon’s claws and magic, than Freed had been able to remain silent through the blade slicing into his body. But it was brief, the Demon surging to the fore, its anger and hunger unsatiated even as the man fell still beneath them.

Freed didn’t fight it. Content to rest, as it carried him out of the room that had been his own personal hell for goodness knows how long. _Laxus, I’m coming,_ he thought. He knew that it wasn’t that simple, after all, their escape and the subsequent fight hadn’t been quiet, and he could already hear people moving towards them, voices raised in alarm.

Too much alarm.

He blinked, beginning to pay more attention to his surroundings as he realised that he could already here fighting in the distance. _What is going on?_ His thoughts were sluggish, struggling to connect the dots. Then there was a face in front of him, a mage that had been bolting from whatever lay ahead slamming into him, and the Demon was on him at once, shadows shredding him to pieces before Freed had even realised what was happening. Now he fought. Trying desperately to retake control of his body, even as the Demon pressed forward into what appeared to be a more central area, lashing out, as they found themselves in the middle of more people. It was always hard to wrestle control away from it, something that hadn’t grown easier with time and skill. And today it was a thousand times worse because he was already at his limit, and as he began to fight the Demon fought back, pushing the pain that he had been able to ignore where he was back towards him in a crushing wave.

He faltered beneath the onslaught, what little progress he’d made, trickling through his fingers. _I can’t. I can’t…_ Lighting lashed through the air around him, thunder rumbling overhead and Freed’s eyes flew open, as he felt the familiar magic fill the air around him.

Laxus.

He blinked again, seeing through his own eyes again, although the rest of his body wasn’t his own again. Blinking just in time to see two mages freeze in place, stone creeping across the skin and there was Evergreen, glasses raised, carefully avoiding looking towards him, although he could see the worry in her eyes that told him she had spotted him.

“LAXUS! He’s here!” Freed wanted to thank her for not shouting about what he had become, about the Demon that snarled with his voice, fighting to regain complete control. Lightning flashed through the room again, and he flung himself at the Demon, desperately trying to claw back control, wanting to at least be able to turn around and see the Dragon-slayer for himself. But its control wasn’t wavering, and he was trapped in place as the Demon lashed out again and again, moving worryingly closer to Evergreen. _No. Not her. Not them._ She had seen his approach and was backing away, knowing from experience what was happening and then Bickslow was there, pulling her back, the dolls rocketing around them to clear a path for them to retreat.

“Freed!” Finally, the voice that Freed had been dreaming of for days, that at times he had thought he might never hear again reached his ears. _Laxus._ However, his relief and joy were tempered by the fact that he was still locked inside his own body. His body that was twisting, shadows spreading out around him as the Demon turned to face this newest threat.

And there was Laxus.

He looked tired and haggard, and once again, Freed wished he knew how long it had been. Heart aching with the knowledge that he had helped to put that look on the Dragon-slayer’s face. But he was there, eyes locked on Freed, and although there was relief in his expression, his jaw was set and determined as he spread his hands wide, lightning crackling around his fingers. “Let him go,” Laxus ordered, holding the Demon’s gaze, and Freed felt rather than heard the growl that rose in his throat, more focused on the trickle of fear that wasn’t his own, a smile tugging at his lips. _It’s scared of Laxus._ That gave him hope, but not as much as the sight of blue eyes narrowing. “Freed, keep fighting him.” There was a promise in those words, and Freed nodded and closed his eyes just as he saw the Dragon-slayer springing forward, lightning rushing towards him.

He felt the attack land, his magic surging to protect them from the worst of it as the Demon snarled and twisted, lashing out at the Dragon-slayer. This was what he had wanted to avoid. He didn’t want to hurt his friends. He didn’t want to hurt Laxus.

He seized on the pain that the Demon had pushed towards him, a feeling that was all his. He had endured it. His body bore the evidence of it, hidden beneath scales and curling shadows. _This is my body,_ he thought furiously, no longer focusing on cutting completely through the control the Demon had over him, but rather on breaking through in one specific spot. A punch from Laxus had his body staggering backwards, and he winced as lightning lashed against his wounds, darkness threatening to pull him under. _Not yet. Please…_ He was staggering again, and then the Demon was leaping forward, his lips pulled back and teeth bared at the Dragon-slayer. _Please stop me,_ he pleaded, and there was a flicker in Laxus’ eyes again, and then there was a hand against his throat, stopping the lunge mid-air and holding him there.

“Freed! NOW!” Laxus was looking at him, and not the Demon controlling his body right now. Freed could tell from the desperation in the words, and the look in his eyes, the softness that was reserved for him alone. The same softness that had been present the day Laxus had got down on one knee, and he locked onto that image, as he flung himself at the wall between him and the Demon. His hand twitched. Clawed fingers brushing his palm, and the trickle of fear became a spark.

_LET ME GO._

Freed flung everything he had into the shout, as he twisted his hand and clawed at one of the deeper wounds on his side. It burned. A sickening fire that was a hundred times worse than the original wound and his vision went dark.

The fire was still burning, a dull, throbbing ache in his side when he came back to himself. Entirely himself, he realised, taking a deep breath and immediately regretting it, as his chest ached at the movement, but it had been his movement. His choice. And he blinked, trying to clear the shadows from his vision as he realised that he was no longer upright, but lying sprawled against something warm and solid. Something that was rising and falling in a soothing rhythm. “L-Laxus…?” It was his voice, not the low, guttural growls of the Demon, and his eyes were burning as there was a soft noise from above him, before he was being moved, ever so gently until he found himself peering up into the Dragon-slayer’s face. “Laxus…” Relief had him trembling, or maybe it was exhaustion and pain, as he struggled to lift a shaking hand up to run his fingers over Laxus’ chin, blinking fiercely as Laxus leant into the touch.

“You’re back,” Laxus murmured, turning so that he could press a kiss to Freed’s palm. The tender moment broke a moment later, as his arms tightened, and he yanked Freed into a fierce hug. It hurt. Igniting every wound in his body, but Freed didn’t try to fight it, melting against the Dragon-slayer as he realised that he wasn’t the only one who trembling. “I thought I’d lost you,” Laxus’ voice had dropped, the words for Freed alone and the Rune Mage shivered, burying his fingers into the material of Laxus’ shirt.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he tried for levity, but knew it was ruined by the pain that he couldn’t keep out of his voice or the waver that came from the thought that ‘it had been close’. “Not now,” he added, trying to distract Laxus who had loosened his grip now, realising that he was causing him pain, as he reached for the ring around his neck. Only to find his breathing speeding up as he was finally able to curl his fingers around it, unaware of the stray tear that had made its way down his cheek until Laxus reached up to brush it away, before moving to rest his hand on top of Freed’s.

“Not ever,” he corrected, voice fierce, and Freed couldn’t help but laugh, although it was a broken watery noise that he buried in Laxus’ shoulder as quickly as he could. Closing his eyes against the urge to cry, focusing on the fact that it was over, the warmth of Laxus hand against his, and the solid bulwark of his body against his, before nodding and echoing softly.

“Not ever.”


End file.
